In Dreams
by MinnieMay
Summary: Dreams are a doorway into the mind. Veronica, Logan, Duncan, Weevil, and Wallace open up the door.


Title: In Dreams  
Author: Minnie-May  
Pairing/Character: Ensemble  
Distribution: Just ask.  
Rating: T  
Summary: Dreams are a doorway into the mind. Veronica, Logan, Duncan, Weevil, and Wallace open up the door.  
Spoilers: Nothing too specific  
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. And my soul.  
Author's Note: Much love to my betas, Rawles and Regina. Also, feedback is my anti-drug.

In Dreams

Veronica dreamed in pastels. Shades of baby blue and cotton candy pink invaded her slumber like thieves, stealing into her thoughts and robbing them of the vibrancy of basic colors until everything looked washed out and hollow. These were colors that Veronica didn't care for, colors that implied innocence and simplicity and other things she didn't have the time or patience for anymore. But they were there in her dreams; she was there in her dreams.

The "she" of past tense that is. The one who giggled as Lilly braided her long hair and told her conquest stories in the most confidential of whispers. The one who drew hearts around Duncan's name, and blushed when Logan told a dirty joke. The person that existed only in memories always presented herself in Veronica's dreams.

Lilly wasn't there anymore though. She missed Lilly more than the hopefulness on the face of the old Veronica. She thought she could live with the fractured dreams and the broken hopes, if only Lilly was around. There was something about Lilly's manic energy and lust for life that seemed oddly clarifying for Veronica. When she was around Lilly, things made sense, the universe had order. When she was near Lilly, she was fearless and safe.

Lately, she had been having the same dream over and over again. Veronica had scoured those pseudo-psychology dream books for some kind of explanation as to what it meant. The books always offered answers that made no sense, and each book contradicted the others. She considered asking Wallace what he thought it meant, but she could never build up the courage to mention it. There was something about the dream that unsettled her in ways that she couldn't quite articulate.

When it begins she knows how it ends. She's sitting on a raft in the middle of a tranquil stream. The blue of the water is too light, much too powder blue to be actual water. It looks like a pre-teen colored it in with Lisa Frank crayons. Everything around her looks like an Easter basket, from the robin's egg sky to the light lavender bushes. She's wearing a bathing suit, pale yellow of course, and she keeps looking around for someone. The Veronica in her dreams knows exactly who it is she's looking for. Her eyes scan the distance with purpose as she pulls her long blonde hair into a ponytail. The Veronica looking on, however, has no idea; just an expectation of something to come.

And something always does.

The current begins to move faster, and the Veronica in the raft begins to look around more quickly. Her face shows panic and concern. She calls out a name but whose name it is still remains a mystery. The current is at a breakneck pace now. The Veronica on the raft grabs onto the shiny pale surface for dear life and the Veronica watching can feel her terror, but can do nothing to help. She can't save this girl with long hair and hopeful eyes as the raft and the old Veronica tumble over a waterfall and into the water below.

She sees a soft blonde head bob amongst the current only to get pulled under again. This is when she feels it. The dread. It clamps down on her like a pillow smothering her, taking away all the air, every freedom being stripped away until it's just her, down in the depths being pulled farther under. She can feel that Veronica- no she can feel herself- give up. She's sucked under the current once more, and for a second she enjoys the feeling. She doesn't have to fight anymore. It's all over. Then something appears on the water, something bright and basic and not pastel.

Blood.

She wakes up sweating and shaking every time.

She doesn't know what it means, and sometimes she thinks she doesn't want to.

Logan

When Logan dreams, Lilly is always there. At first he thought it was some sick joke, a way of teasing him. Showing him what he would never have again.

He was with her shopping.

"Do you like me in the red, baby, or is the blue more me?"

"If I cared any less I'd be unconscious right now, Lil. Could we hurry up?"

"Fine, fine!"

She pouts in that way she always used to when she wanted something she wasn't getting. But then again, she always got what she wanted eventually, didn't she?

"I like the red."

He always gave in or looked the other way. Or didn't look at all.

Lilly's always perfect in his dreams. Her hair shines in cascades of brilliant blonde down her back. Her makeup is perfect and natural. Her clothes are bright and colorful and sometimes on the provocative side, but that wasn't just his subconscious, it was Lilly. Lilly always wanted to be noticed.

"What's your favorite thing about me?"

"I can only pick one?"

"Right answer."

Even in his dreams she's not his. He hugs her, but she disappears into mist in his arms. Their kisses are powerful, but they never last long. She melts away from him; she wafts away on a breeze.

She's more than he can handle and less than he can hold on to.

Sometimes he thinks that's what he likes about her.

They sit on his couch; Lilly sprawled in his arms casually. The light from the television flickers off her pale skin and gives her an unearthly glow.

"What do you think about Veronica?"

"I don't."

"No, really! I'm just curious."

"Like…as a person?"

"Yeah, as a person. What do you think of her?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious."

Lilly was always curious. She always wanted to know just a little bit more than she should. Another detail, another story, just one more guy. There was a curiosity-killed-the –cat reference in there somewhere, but Logan wasn't apt to make it.

"Fine. I think Veronica's sweet."

"No you don't. Candy's sweet, Veronica's a person. Come on, Logan."

"Ok then. I think Veronica is a lot different than we think she is."

"Oh, interesting. How?"

"I think she's just…more. I don't know. This is a stupid question, Lilly."

"You're right. She is different. There's a whole other Veronica Mars under there somewhere. I'll bring it out of her someday. Just you watch."

"Sure you will, Lilly. Now, can we watch the rest of the movie?"

"Well, geez, I can think of something far more interesting for us to do than _that_."

Logan wishes it was Veronica in his dreams. Sometimes he thinks she's even more complicated than Lilly is. She's a whole ball of contradictions in a tiny package. Lilly seemed more straightforward. She knew what she wanted and she always got what she wanted. It would be easier to dream of Veronica, to think what they could do together, what they could be together. The thought of Veronica was hopeful, like a candle in a dark room, to fall back on an old cliché. Thinking of Lilly was too hard; it brought too much pain.

Still, he dreamt of Lilly. He thought he might always dream of Lilly.

Duncan

Duncan dreams of murder.

No matter how hard he tries, his dreams are always soaked in blood. Crimson steals along the edges of his vision until it's all he can see. It never washes out, never goes away. He can still see the red stain by the pool. No matter how hard he scrubs in his dreams it never goes away.

It started out with Lilly. She'd be sitting there, by the pool as he'd seen her do so often, reading a magazine or doing her nails. She wouldn't even look up as a shadow passed over her body. Cold dread would sweep over Duncan and he would scream at her. He always pleaded with her to do something. He would go hoarse trying.

He warned her every time.

He never saw the murderer but he always washed away the blood. The body would be gone but sometimes he'd be able to see her. A phantom shape on the ground. A chalk outline.

The blood never washed out. That was the weird thing about it. Duncan could wash and wash and it never did anything. The stain didn't lighten or soften; it stayed hard and bright and far too red. It should have faded but it didn't. It never would.

Then one night Lilly didn't lounge by the pool. Duncan nearly wept with relief as the chair stood empty. He couldn't help thinking it meant something. Maybe the stain would finally wash.

Then it happened.

Veronica walked by, sat down in the chair and closed her eyes. Duncan's cries were even louder than before but they were still just as deaf. He never saw the murderer, just a blurry outline and a black shadow.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was the murderer. The thought would creep over him slowly, chilling him to the bone. In his mind he knew it couldn't be him, but that moment of panic turned his stomach every time. He was doomed though, all the same.

Every night he scrubbed, hoping the stain would fade just a little.

It never did.

Weevil

Weevil's always moving in his dreams. He never stops and he never looks back. He's not into symbolism, but he figures it means something all the same. Everything means something.

The road never ends and his bike never runs out of gas. The sun shines down on him and his skin feels warm. He thinks it might be paradise, but he figures it's just Arizona or something.

Maybe some far off part of California where your zip code meant nothing more than where you live.

There's desert on either side of him, but the sand doesn't blow into his eyes, even when he swerves off the road. He dodges bushes and cacti without a thought, and drives as far as he can into the vast nothingness until he hits road again. There aren't any other cars so he pops a few wheelies before continuing on his way.

The road stretches endlessly before him, and he sees some mountains in the distance, but never reaches them. He figures he would if he was driving on a real road, to a real destination, and this wasn't all a dream. He'd reach that mountain if this all wasn't just some product of his imagination or because he hadn't been hugged enough as a child or whatever.

Some nights getting to the mountain was his goal. He figured it would be just like him to pick something he could never achieve. Because no matter how far he drove on the road, the scenery was always the same. The mountain was always too far in the distance to reach. He could never close the gap.

Weevil became obsessed with the idea of getting there, of being on the mountain. He wanted to climb to the top and see everything from way up high. He bet everything would look smaller, like doll furniture. He had never been on a plane, but he heard that people and cars looked like ants from way up high. He kinda wanted to see what that was like.

One night, he realized he would never get to that mountain. It was unattainable. So many things in his life were. He thought he'd come close a few times, but he was never any closer. It was an illusion, just like the mountain in the distance. He could continue looking and hoping and dreaming, but it wouldn't do any good.

That's the night Weevil turned his motorcycle around and went back the other way. What good was looking at something you could never have anyway?

Wallace

Wallace dreams of screaming fans. Neptune's colors were always brighter in his dreams. Everything was brighter in his dreams, the colors of the offensive and the gleaming basketball hoop. The net always made a really dramatic "swoosh" sound when he landed a basket too. Oh, and he had theme music.

It sounded a little like the Shaft theme.

Wallace thought this probably meant he was egocentric. When he told his mom about it she had just laughed and told him that it only meant he was normal. Normal was the exact opposite of what Wallace was in his dreams.

Veronica was always there too. One time she was wearing a cheerleading uniform and he hadn't been able to look her straight in the eye the next day. She thought he was crazy.

The Veronica in his dreams was pretty much like the regular Veronica, barring the cheerleading fiasco. She always cheered for him in the sidelines like best friends are supposed to. She went wild one night when he hung suspended in the air a full minute after dunking. Even he thought that was a little ridiculous.

Other people showed up in his dreams too. They were never in starring roles like he and Veronica, but they made cameo appearances all the same. One night Mac asked him for help hacking into a computer network. That was weird, since he couldn't even get Word to open right and Mac was a computer genius. But he helped her all the same and, if he remembered right, saved the world from a nuclear explosion.

Veronica thought that was awesome, and afterward they ate pizza and watched bad movies. During some zombie movie, Veronica turned to him and confided that all of her friends were in love with him. Wallace merely shrugged and said he had that affect on women.

The next day Wallace looked up the definition of "narcissism" in the dictionary.

Veronica

Everything is still pastel and soft. Veronica sits on the raft, only it's her this time and not the doe eyed version of herself that plummets every night. Everything else is the same though. The water and the sky and the bushes are still those same unreal colors, as if she's floating on scenery from a baby's blanket.

She's still looking around, still searching for someone beyond her reach. She doesn't know who it is at first. She scans her surroundings for signs of movement, hoping against hope that someone's there. This time it'll be different, she convinces herself.

But the current's moving faster again. She feels her body being propelled forward and that's when she knows who it is she's been looking for this whole time. She calls out the name like a revelation:

"Lilly!"

She misses her best friend.

No one answers, as she should have expected, except she got her hopes up again. She should know by now not to get her hopes up. She should know it by now, but she still hopes, even as the current gets faster and rougher. She clings to her pastel raft and watches her knuckles turn white. She feels the familiar sense of dread as the current moves her faster and faster towards her destination.

She's not ready this time.

She goes over the waterfall and feels the air ripped from her lungs. Everything is dark and dense and moving far too quickly for her to comprehend. It's all too much. She fights the current and bursts out of the water, coughing and sputtering, but victorious. At least that's what she thinks, but the water isn't done with her yet.

It pulls her back under just as she thinks she can make it to the shore. Things always hit you just when you think they're getting better.

She realizes that she's tried of fighting; she's tired of trying. The water is dark and presses on her like a gang of kids trying to peer pressure her into smoking. Just give up, the water is telling her.

She thinks a rest might be nice.

That's when it happens, when the dream alters in a way it never has before. A hand bursts through the water, heading straight for Veronica. For a second she doesn't know what to do, how to react. This wasn't how it happened. The hand grabs her wrist and drags her up out of the water. She gets a breath of fresh air and coughs as she is dragged to shore.

She turns to see who has saved her expectantly. It wasn't Lilly, but for the first time that was ok.

"I knew it would be you."

END


End file.
